The Cold Light Of Day
by RomanceGuru
Summary: Firefly, Angel crossover. Inara Serra & Marcus Hamilton. They owned her...R&R :


Title: The Cold Light Of Day  
Characters/Pairings: Inara Serra /Marcus Hamilton

Prompt: "Contracts"

Timeline: Takes place during Inara's "check up" on Ariel.

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It was cold in this place, the kind that got under your skin and stuck the moment you entered the building. Sunshine streamed in through the large window, but Inara couldn't feel it on her face as she gazed down at the city below, where they were, somewhere.

Sitting behind his desk, Marcus watched the companion from behind ice-cold eyes, indifference owning his perfect posture. The clicking of his pen against paper was just to make her nervous. "You know how this works, Inara. Everything's binding." He prompted coolly, enjoying the misery that rolled of the graceful thing.

Shoulder's sagging under the weight of obligation, Inara turned to face Marcus' vacant stare. He owned her, _they_ owned her, and no amount of flying free through the black was going to change that.

Smiling politely, Inara tired to choose her words carefully as she took a step forward, her very existence hanging in the balance. "I understand. I'm grateful for your leniency, really." She reasoned diplomatically.

Marcus stood, smoothing out his suit before moving around the dark, polished oak and making his way over to the companion. Putting his fingertips together, he waited for her to finish explaining.

Inara's heart sped up as he neared, his presence even more daunting at full height. Proximity caused her insides to liquefy, making it difficult to get a grip on the composure for which she was so renowned. Professionalism and years of training were swallowed by fear, by the memory of what he was capable of doing.

"It's just…" She began nervously, practically rambling. "Malcolm Reynolds is an unpredictable man…as you well know. Most of the time I don't know which end of the 'verse I'll end up on." She paused, his silence unnerving and throwing her briefly from her train of thought. "In valuing your discretion, I come to you under pretense, an excuse that would raise suspicion if I were to abuse it. So you can understand my predicament."

Marcus raised a heavy hand to Inara's shoulder, noting how she flinched ever so slightly. Fingering the satin and jewels that covered her expensive skin, he hummed contemplatively, unconvinced.

Inara watched Marcus' face cautiously as her toyed with her clothing, surprised at how gentle he could be. It was part of the game she fell for time and time again. A surge of nervous anticipation flooded her as he unhooked the clasp to her dress, her lavender sleeve falling away and leaving her right arm exposed.

Words stripped bare of their usual seduction stumbled from Inara's lips as she tried to reassure him further, "Believe me when I tell you, Marcus, I'm more than honored to be here." Why couldn't she will her hands to touch him back? To lie as her promises did?

"You make it sound as if this arrangement were merely contractual." Marcus baited as he brushed the back of his fingers admiringly along her collarbone, marveling at just how breakable she could be. "Do you not enjoy our time together?" He inquired gently, reveling in the power he wielded as he made his way towards the second clasp.

Inara looked up into his eyes, using her own as tools and fed him the deceptions he wanted to hear. "The time in between our visits always seem an eternity."

Marcus smiled, his hand falling away from the only hook keeping the companion clothed. Reaching into his breast pocket, he pulled out a form and unfolded it. "I'm so glad you feel that way."

Supplying Inara with a pen, he handed both items over. "Please, sign here at the bottom."

Inara looked perplexedly from the document to Marcus. "But I've already…"

With a wave of the hand, Marcus dismissed her confusion. "This is something entirely new. You're being reassigned. Permanently. To me." He announced as if it were that happiest news in the world.

Taking the paper, Inara's fingers began to shake as she read the print, blaring and loud. She could barely breathe as she looked back up at Marcus, not for a moment doubting he would go to such measures if she refused. Serenity wouldn't have a fighting chance.

The golden memories of everyone she loved flitted across her mind, their smiles and laughter helping to push the pen across paper, and when her name was fully spelled out across the page in binding red ink, the door to that life slammed violently shut.

"That's a girl." Marcus said approvingly as he clicked the pen closed and returned the document next to his cold-beating heart. Clasping his hands together enthusiastically, he asked, "So, shall I show you to your room?"

Inara nodded obediently and followed Marcus to her chamber, to her perpetual hell, because underneath his polite exterior, he wasn't really asking.

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End file.
